


Masquerade

by angellinetti



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Forbidden Love, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Malcolm Grimm makes me want to die, Protective Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Simon is in the lowest social class, Simon's last name is Salisbury, So is Penny, The Mage is stupid y'all, and Micah, he's the president
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-08-27 21:59:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16710814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellinetti/pseuds/angellinetti
Summary: There are two different societies in the new world.In a war that happened in 2005, a new government was born that decided that the lower class would be forced into masks to hide their identities. They were seen as hideous and a disgrace to the Earth. This class is mainly made of lower class family, children born out of wedlock, single mothers, or anyone who hasn’t a dime to their name. Their masks are often black, white, or gray, or a mix of these colors. They are often clad in dark clothes, whether black or gray. They are called the “Faceless Ones”.





	1. Flash of mauve

There are two different societies in the new world. In a war that happened in 2005, a new government was born that decided that the lower class would be forced into masks to hide their identities. They were seen as hideous and a disgrace to the Earth. This class is mainly made of lower class family, children born out of wedlock, single mothers, or anyone who hasn’t a dime to their name. Their masks are often black, white, or gray, or a mix of these colors. They are often clad in dark clothes, whether black or gray. They are called the “ _Faceless Ones”_.

The higher class, on the other hand, has everything. They are able to walk around, no mask attached to their face, hiding who they are from the real world. The children wear scarlet, the elders wear pink.

The highest class, the ones who run the system, wear yellow and gold. The ruler of the new world, President Malcolm Grimm, wears crisp white clothing and a golden crown rests upon his graying hair. The president’s children wear navy blue to show that they were to be respected.

This is what the new world was, but not for long.

*

Simon Salisbury was born out of wedlock. His mother had died while giving birth to him, and at the mere age of nine, his father abandoned him.

Left alone with no one to help him, Simon was classified as a _“Faceless One”_. He was assigned to a mask attached to his face, a label to others that he was unworthy of living in peace. He had tried to pry it off many times. On the fifteenth anniversary of his mother’s death, his own fifteenth birthday, Simon found a hammer beside the abandoned warehouse next door.

He cried, mask slippery with tears as he bashed in the mask, hoping it would shatter like his heart had many years ago. He hummed the low, crackling tune of ‘Happy Birthday’ as he gripped the hammer tighter. He thought to himself, _just one more time, just one more hit and it will break._

He watched the hammer, shaking in his freckled hand, move forward before colliding with the unbreakable mask.

The hammer thudded against the wood floor, bringing up dust that had been there for centuries.

He moved his hand toward his face before stopping. He slowly stood, feeling lighter somehow. _Had it somehow worked?_

Simon sluggishly walked up the stairs, finding it hard to swallow his excitement. He wouldn’t be faced with another heart-wrenching disappointment. Not today, not on his birthday.

He turned the corner at the top of the steps, making a sharp left and entering a dark room. He closed the door, fished out his matches in the pocket of his black jeans, and lit one.

He slowly held it to his face and then flicked his eyes upwards.

He stared into the mirror in front of him. His heart pounded, harder and harder. He wanted to cry. He needed to cry.

There, staring back at him through the cracked bathroom mirror, was himself. Himself clad in a black and white mask, crimson running over it.

*

A few years later, Simon was turning twenty-one. He barely went outside anymore, but today he had to. He stepped outside and looked at the sky. It was dimming, slowly. He put the hood of his black hoodie up and started to walk. Everyone would know he was a faceless, but it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

As he made his rounds, he heard shrill cries coming from around the corner. For not having eaten or drank in days, he managed to sprint to help. There was a girl, purple hair smeared with crimson, on the ground as a group of higher class men kicked her around.

“Hey!” The men turned to him and the tallest one sneered. They lurched forward, almost in sync, but Simon was quicker. He ran around them, not trusting himself to fight them on his own. He grabbed the girl, helped her to her feet and told her to run. He ran beside her steadying her a couple of times. He grabbed her arm and swiftly pulled her into a deserted alleyway. Her wide brown eyes met his own crying for help. He slowly nodded his head and lifted  finger to his lips, pulling her down so they were crouching and out of sight. They watched as they ran by. “They must have went that way. We’ll get rid of ‘em eventually.”

Simon listened as the pounding footsteps got further away. Then there was silence.

“Thank you,” the girl croaked, eyes meeting his once more. Simon nodded slowly before walking out of the alleyway. The short girl followed behind him, holding her hand to the gash on her forehead.

Simon opened his door and gestured for her to go in first. “It’s not a lot, but I’ve been here since I was nine. This place is my home.” Simon scanned the room quickly, eyes falling on every little thing that he could have cleaned up. He wasn’t quite expecting company.

“Do you have somewhere to sit?” Simon nodded, eyebrows scrunched together. “Then I’m fine. I need to sit, and maybe take care of,” the girl motioned to her forehead, “this.”

Simon nodded and led her to the small sitting room inside. He helped her sit down and walked away.

Simon returned with his last bottle of water, not that she needed to know that, and a dirty rag. He poured a tiny amount onto the rag and kneeled in front of her. She raised her face to be equal with his. He wiped at the gash, cleansing it and ridding her skin of the dried, copper blood.

“What’s your name?” her voice rang like a bell in the silence.

“Simon. Simon Salisbury.” He smiled. He took his mother’s last name, not wanting to honor his father in any way.

“I’m Penelope Bunce. But everyone I’ve ever known calls me Penny.”

Simon smiled at her, lifting the rag from her wound. “Much better,” he confirmed, nodding his head slightly. Next, he picked up an unraveling bandage and wrapped it lightly around her head. “Just like new.”

Penny sighed at these words. “Thank you, Simon Salisbury.”

  



	2. Splash of puce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year has passed. Basilton makes his appearance.

*

Another year passed, and Simon was a week away from twenty-two. Penny and Simon were planning something, something big.

They had gathered up every faceless they could and put together a boycott.

They weren't going to be treated this way anymore. They were humans and should have the rights any normal human should have.

They were going to stand there, in front of every higher class citizen, and declare equality. This may start another war, but one that they would win. Penny and Simon were chanting along with everyone, watching to present chaos from erupting, when Penny signalled forward. There, in the front of the crowd, was a man, a few years older than Simon, hooded with a navy blue cape. 

“Get him, before this goes downhill.” Simon nodded and slowly worked his way to the front, lightly chanting with all of the others to not seem out of place. He was getting closer, pushing through the crowd. He grabbed the boy’s arm, making eye contact with Penny. He nodded before pulling him away from the crowd.

“Are you trying to get killed?” He recognized him the moment he saw his looming figure. He was the oldest son of Malcolm Grimm, Tyrannus Basilton. He knew that one wrong move and he'd be running to his father. Simon was walking on eggshells when addressing him. Simon wasn’t sure why he was doing this, helping him from being attacked. Although, they couldn’t have chaos, or else they’d all be in jail at the snap of Malcolm Grimm’s fingers. Simon still felt that wasn't the reason for grabbing him.

The boy’s wandering eyes answered his question. Penny rounded the corner giving a thumbs up to Simon. “Everyone is still together. Micah agreed to watch over them.” Penny moved forward and Simon yanked the boy by the arm. From the corner of his eye, he saw him wince. They made the corner and walked through a secluded park. Through the trees, Simon’s-and Penny’s-little shack, his home, could be seen. 

Once inside, Simon pushed the man towards a chair, “Sit.” The man hesitated at first, eyes wandering across Simon’s face, no doubt taking in his mask, before obeying and taking a seat. 

“What were you doing out there?” Penny asked, starting the interrogation process. Her eyes were cold, her gaze unnerving. 

“I was walking around, exploring the village.” Basilton shrugged, eyes wandering from Simon to Penny, then back to Simon.

“And you just happened to walk into our riot and our protesting against your father and his system? Seems a little suspicious.”

“I was just getting some exercise! Getting some fresh air! I don’t often get out without my father right in front of me, causing mass destruction with every step.” Simon rolled his eyes, turning away and walking upstairs. Penny could handle this on her own, Simon could not. With his anger issues, who knows what could happen down there. He looked out the hole in the wall where a window once was. He saw the riot still happening as if neither of them had never left. Simon sighed and turned around. This was okay. He took the stairs quickly, entering back into the room.

“Why do you guys have masks?” Basilton was asking question after question, interrogating them instead of them questioning him.

“We don’t know why we have masks. It’s how we grew up, no one remembers what happened before the masks. I was thirteen, Simon was nine.”

“Well, if you hate them so much, why go to my father when you can take them off yourselves?” Penny’s eyes bulged. Not a good topic to bring up with any faceless, especially Simon. He had tried, and she knew this. 

“Do you know,” Simon inhaled, pointing at the raven haired man, “how hard it is to live with this?” Simon turned his finger to the mask, running his finger along the edge where it connected to his flesh. “It is forever marking me, marking us, as lower class, unworthy, poor, monsters. I have sat on this  _ very floor _ trying to peel it from my skin. And you want to know what? All I get is disappointment, pain, and endless suffering. I don't want this, so stop acting as if it's a choice for us!” Simon’s voice rose with every word, fist clenching and veins popping around his knuckles. 

Penny lifted her hand to Simon’s shoulder, “Calm, Simon. You’re okay.” She turned to

look at their guest, “Excuse is for a second.” Penny grabbed Simon’s hand and led him up the staircase. When at the top, she pulled him into a hug. “Don't let him get to you. You know what you've gone through, and I do, too. He doesn't know nor does he need to. Okay?”

Simon nodded, cobalt eyes meeting her chestnut ones, “Okay.”

Penny turned around and walked down the stairs. Simon followed suit until Penny suddenly stopped. “Where the hell did he go?”

Where the man had been sitting was left occupied by only a navy blue string from his cape.

“Okay, maybe we have a bigger problem in our hands. You know he's going to tell his father, right?” Simon started to panic, pacing along the creaking wood floor.

“We can wait it out. If something happens, we will be ready. We've been ready, Si. C’mon, maybe we should rest up.” Penny tried to smile, but Simon was still worried.

“I don't know, Pen. Something about him felt… off, somehow. I’m just worried for you. For you and me and everyone around us.” Simon breathes through his nose, exhaling through his mouth.

“It will be okay, Simon. I promise.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooh! New chapter. Sorry it's a bit shorter than the first one. I wrote half of this on my laptop, half on my phone. Hopefully it's good enough.  
> Anyways... I have a snapchat! it's @/slytherin-tay, my twitter is the same as on here, but I seldom use it.  
> Thanks for reading!! xx

**Author's Note:**

> :) Don't know if anyone will read this, but comments are greatly appreciated! Any criticism is also appreciated. Hope you enjoyed it!


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